Pyrexia
by kismet00
Summary: Artemis has a mission: he must save the Moon Kingdom. With a time key around his neck, Artemis now has one chance to go back in time and save everything he holds dear. But what he finds in the past will shake his beliefs and change him forever.
1. pyrexia

The Silver Millennium was a golden age. The Moon Kingdom was a land of  
paradise. And one day, an evil Kingdom from beyond the hills destroyed it.

Everyone has heard the legend of the peaceful people who lived on the moon.

And those who tell this tale remember it as if it were a dream. It glitters  
in the distance, beyond anyone's reach--so close and yet so far--a wonderful  
collage of spectacular sights and ideals. It was a glorious and fantastic  
moment in history, but just like a dream, the details are blurred beyond  
recognition. And the details aren't important, because only the story truly  
mattered.

Truth and beauty, perfection and paradise, the Moon Kingdom was all this and  
more. It was a tale about a utopian society destroyed by the sins of the  
people, and it was a prime example of what mankind should strive to create.

But the people who lived on the moon are long dead, and those who have been  
reborn have only fragmented memories to rely on.

So is it that hard to imagine, to wonder, and ask: if that fairy tale  
romance of good and evil, of right and wrong, of monsters and wicked  
witches, of virgin princesses and fairy-god queens--was just a dream?

It is said that: "a dream will always triumph over reality, once it is given  
the chance." So, perhaps it is time to wake up, and look at a reality long  
forgotten--a reality with details so beautiful, ugly and grotesque, that few  
will have the courage to look at it head on.

Dare to dream of a reality where the line between black and white explodes  
into a kaleidoscope of gray, where heroes become just as wicked as the  
villains and the villains become just as virtuous as the heroes; enter a  
world where justice rarely triumphs, and where decisions are neither right  
nor wrong but unleash a wave of consequences which echo far into the future.

Wake up reader.

Open your eyes, and hold that gaze steadfast--as everything you know, and  
everything you think you know, crumbles into ashes, consumed by an  
unquenchable crimson flame.

Don't be afraid.

Open your eyes.

And look.

* * *

**py•rex•i•a**

* * *

n. A rise in the temperature of the body; Fever.

* * *

"It was a pleasure to burn." -Fahrenheit 451

* * *

Artemis dreamed.

In his dream everything he touched started to burn. The flames started red,  
then yellow, then finally blue. Billowing in the air like ghostly fireflies;  
the red and yellow and blue flickering fairy-flames danced in circles. They  
were mesmerizing and hypnotic.

He was alone, steeped in the darkness, and his eyes were glued to the only  
light source around. And all he saw was the red and yellow and blue,  
swimming in circles about his face. Artemis couldn't help but stare at the  
flames. He couldn't help but want to touch something else, so the flames  
would never stop.

He didn't want them to stop. Ever.

But everything was burning hot. Rough and dry, his throat complained for  
water. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out. He felt his skin sizzling.  
It was shriveling, crumbling--he was fading away.

Water! Air!

No sounds. Only silence, only the rasps of labored breathing.

Everything hurt. Everything throbbed. Everything burned.

Confused and bewildered, his body panicked. Twitching and thrashing and  
rolling, Artemis tried to calm down. Panic killed people. But he was  
burning! He was burning! Burning! Burning! Burning!

And the mantra kept repeating: The mind is strong. The body is weak. The  
mind is strong. The body is weak.

Rolling, tumbling, turning, terrified and afraid, he breathed in and out  
smoke. In and out the air went. In and out.

Artemis was smoke. Artemis was fire.

Flames blossomed from his fingertips. Ten little flames at the tips of his  
fingers. Ten little beacons in the realm of darkness.

And even though there were things hidden in the darkness, he knew they were  
there. He reached out to touch them, and when he did, they burned.

Burning brighter than the sun, objects came and went as the fire blossoms of  
destruction enveloped them. Artemis watched and was pleased. They were  
brilliant, vibrant, and spectacular--crimson turned golden turned  
azure--these were the colors that the flower deigned to show.

A few seconds to blossom and burn and wilt away to ashes. Just a touch and a  
garden of fire blossoms could sprout, so tantalizing and mesmerizing so  
beautiful and ugly and deadly at once.

Artemis watched and reached, groping and grasping those objects in the dark.  
Again and again, the fire blossoms bloomed and withered and bloomed again.  
Red, yellow, blue. Red, yellow, blue.

Hands reached and grasped until there was nothing left. And then the flames  
went out. All of them went out, and Artemis was alone in the pitch black.

The darkness covered him like a wet blanket and hugged his skin in a  
vice-like grip. Holding him down like a panicked lover, Artemis noticed  
that the throbbing-burning-terrifying pain which tortured his skin finally  
disappeared.

But its grip was getting tighter, heavier. It wouldn't let go.

Artemis was drowning now. He was sinking into oblivion. The weight at his  
chest started to crush his ribs, he couldn't breathe. The darkness was  
dragging him under.

Don't struggle. Panic kills people!

Artemis let go.

He was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

He woke up and saw Hell.

* * *

Her head nodded forward then snapped back to attention, as the little girl  
resisted the temptation to drift off to sleep. The familiar sight of rough  
wooden planks, a dirt trodden floor, and a picture of a man long gone,  
sketched with charcoal, met her eyes. An earthy smell mixed with a hint of  
cinnamon jolted her back to full consciousness.

Home, this was her home.

The same old fireplace cheerily crackled as the little girl noticed that  
half of her was uncomfortably hot and the other half was freezing cold.

Much too close to the flames, she realized.

She scooted back just a few more inches, and then continued to watch her  
mother string up cobs of corn on a length of twine. The cobs of corn were  
being tied together like beads on a necklace. And Mama was incredible; her  
hands were calloused and rough from working day and night so their little  
family could survive.

The little girl felt quite content sitting by her mother, just observing.  
Mama's hands were like magic. They flew around with such speed that angry  
dragonflies could not match. What had started in the morning as a  
mountainous pile of corn was steadily whittling down to the size of an  
anthill. The little girl could only hope that she would become that skilled  
one day. Her previous attempts to string corn had been disasters; the knots  
she tied were loose and sloppy and her mother had to redo the work she had  
done.

The little girl knew that they strung up corn to dry so that they could eat  
during the winter time. Tomorrow the line of corn would adorn the outside of  
their house, like the lights she saw once strung around the capital  
building.

This she knew, but there were a great many other things the girl did not  
know. Adults would often confuse her with what they said. They would use  
big words, or laugh about things that she didn't think were very funny. All  
of this confused her, but the little girl knew that her Mama could tell her  
what they meant. Mama was always right about these things.

After Mama finished the last knot, the little girl climbed on her mother's  
lap. A mountain of warmth and comfort, her mother was. And Mama was never  
wrong, so the little girl was never afraid to ask questions.

The line of corn cobs was placed on the floor and warm arms wrapped around  
her. She was safe here. She could ask anything, and her mother's flaming red  
hair, wild and unmanageable just like her own, tickled the sides of her  
face. A smile welcomed the child, "Do you have a question?" Mama asked.

This was their ritual, the little girl would ask questions when all the  
work was done. It was just like a game. She would ask questions and her  
mother would answer them. Tomorrow night the same thing would happen too.

"Yes Mama," the girl tilted up her head to gaze directly at her mother.  
"What does 'evil' mean?"

Her mother laughed and playfully patted her head. "Now, where did you get  
this silly idea?"

"Ah, nowhere Mama. The neighbors talk here and there." The red-headed girl  
smiled. "Just talkn' and nothing more."

"Still, even if the neighbors were just talking, you better be careful,  
child," her mother chided. "You never know when something bad can happen to  
you. We don't have someone to protect us anymore, so you better be more  
careful."

"Yes Mama," the little girl replied.

Her mother was silent for a time and the little girl noticed that Mama's  
eyes got distant. Mama's eyes were drawn toward that charcoal picture  
hanging on the wall. Her mother paused like this a lot, during some of the  
nights, but the fits wouldn't last very long.

"Enough of that," Mama said, batting her head. "Child, just remember this:  
'evil' is just 'evil.' It's when really bad things happen to good people,  
for no reason at all."

"So how do you know when something is evil?"

"I don't know honey; you can only tell what 'evil' is, when it looks you in  
the eye."

The little girl thought for a bit. "So, Mama, is the Moon Kingdom 'evil'?"

Her mother paused once more. Her face looked all normal and calm, but the  
little girl could see her mother's hand clenched in a little ball. Her  
Mama's fist was all white knuckled. It was clenched so tightly, that small  
rivulets of blood began dripping.

Crimson splashes appeared on the little girl's dress.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Her mother held her more tightly.

"Yes. The Moon Kingdom is evil." Her mother told her, ignoring the blood.  
"But don't worry honey, in the end 'evil' people always get it. They'll be  
punished one day. Just you wait and see. They'll be punished."

"Why is that, Mama?" The little girl said, as she tried to ease up her  
mother's embrace.

Her mother smiled a wicked grin. Her teeth glinted in the firelight. "Well,  
that's because good always triumphs over evil."

Freeing herself from an iron grip, the red-headed girl leapt off of her  
mother's lap. Her mother didn't care, she didn't even notice.

Right now, her mother's attention turned inward, to a place where she could  
never reach her. Mama got scary sometimes, so the little girl decided that  
it was a good time to run outside and play.

Outside in the open air, the cold nipped her skin, but it was a clear night,  
good for star viewing.

She thought the stars glittered like broken glass in sunlight, but the  
prettiest thing up in the sky was the moon. The neighbors said that the  
people on the moon lived in giant palaces, so beautiful and pretty that a  
million of their old dirt floor homes couldn't even begin to compare to it.  
The little girl looked up at the bright, grinning, crescent moon and  
wondered what those moon people were doing up there.

She was sure they were having a tea party of some sort.

* * *

Artemis' eyelids opened.

There was a dead man on his chest. It was hard to breathe with a dead man on  
his chest.

The dreaming man, now awake, rolled half-way to shove the body over. It  
landed with a thump and the body began to sizzle on the stones. It was just  
that hot; it sounded like an egg frying.

He lay there for a moment. Not moving, not doing anything. He couldn't feel  
anything. His arms were like leather, his body like a dead weight.

And Artemis noticed he couldn't see the stars.

With the dead man off his chest, Artemis stood up slowly and painfully, and  
stopped when he saw the fires roaring in the background. The shadows danced  
and leaped against the ground, brought to life by the monster licking away  
at the skeleton-frame buildings.

Artemis stared, and his mouth was open, and his throat was dry and parched.  
Embers fell to earth like snow, dipping in and out of existence on a whim.  
He saw and looked and stared, and noticed the flames were red and  
yellow--brilliant and spectacular--and Artemis could only help but watch as  
the Moon Kingdom was being burnt to the ground.

Burning. Everything was burning.

Artemis closed his mouth. He clenched his jaw.

The city was disappearing, but why? Why?

Don't struggle. Panic kills people!

He breathed in and out smoke. He was smoke. He was fire.

He stood. He watched. He stared. How was it gone already?

Then, sounds of footsteps reached his ears, and Artemis turned around,  
feeling a slight weight hit his chest as he stopped. Was he wearing a  
necklace? But that thought quickly faded away--

--Because his body melted when he saw her.

* * *

"Help me out here Fred! I'm melting! I'm melting!"

The shiny tin soldier was doing a rather good impression of a man melting to  
death. He was slowly wobbling, slithering down to the floor until his whole  
body rested in an awkward position of a mock death. "Ugh. I died." His face  
flopped to one side. He rolled his eyes inward. A tongue dangled from his  
mouth.

"Get your ass off of the floor. You are the biggest idiot alive." His  
partner, Boma, tried to pull out his hair. "Of all the people I have to  
work with; why am I stuck with you? And would you stop calling me Fred?"

"Because I'm so loveable and cuddly." He slapped the hand away from his  
hair. "And why do I call you 'Fred?" He grinned, "Well I think you're a  
'Fred' kind of guy."

"Boma. My name is Boma!" The other shiny tin soldier frowned, "If any more  
of that loveable and cuddly goodness passes around this room, I might just  
make sure you never have children. Then you could be the damn happiest  
eunuch in the world, and then the world would personally thank me for  
preventing another numskull from breeding." Boma picked up the idiot on the  
floor, and carried a deadpan expression on his face. "Here, have a glass of  
water."

"Why thank you Fred, I never knew you cared."

Boma screamed.

The facility, located fifty meters underground was like an oven, baking him  
from the inside out. Despite the heat, what made it even worse was the fact  
that he was stuck with an idiot. An idiot named Alphonse Edward Stevenson  
the third.

Together they were two shiny tin soldiers, who never fought and never  
protected, but were simply two men who pressed shiny red buttons. This was  
their job. It was tedious and dull and boring.

"Oh alas, why did they send so many in the first place? We won't be done  
until the sun sets."

"You're still talking aren't you, Mr. 'soon to be eunuch'? Perhaps you  
should do yourself a favor and go send the next batch in, before I really  
get upset."

"Alright Mr. Grumpy Pants." The man smirked. "Although I do hear if you  
remove certain objects from your rectum, it--"

"Finish that sentence and die," Boma spat. "GO, NOW!"

"Roger! 10-4, I'm off to do my nation sworn duty! Risking life and limb--"

The other man skipped off to the holding cells, while Boma simply  
contemplated why he was here.

Transfer. Yes a transfer was in order. Immediately, he would ask for a  
transfer, and be whisked away to a different station and post. Away from  
him. Away from him.

And in an almost complete change of character Boma watched as Alphonse  
prodded the next batch of people into a small square room with a  
professional military ridged-ness usually only seen from troops fresh out of  
the academy.

When the people were securely inside, Boma pressed another button. The doors  
shut. They were four inches thick and the people, who looked grubby and  
dirty and less than human from behind the one way screen, would have no  
chance of escape.

Alphonse took his sweet time getting back to the control room, walking as if  
he were in some grand parade march. And when he returned, one of those  
pathetic examples of humanity leapt at the one way screen.

The man's feeble body thumped and thumped against the screen, but it would  
not give. The soldiers were well protected. There was five inches of wall  
separating them. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you all! You can't get away with  
this!" The man screamed.

He was clawing at it, desperately seeking freedom. He was trying to get out.  
He was trying to get them. He wanted to kill those two tin soldiers and  
destroy everything they stood for. Clawing, fighting to the end!

"Sure pal, right." Alphonse grinned, looking on at the man's futile efforts.  
"Let's see you kill us now."

Alphonse pressed a shiny red button.

A white flash blinded everything. The pounding stopped. The room skyrocketed  
in temperature and pressure.

And when the light faded away the people did too. There were no bodies,  
there were no skeletons, there was no dust, or ashes, or anything at all.  
When the light went away, there were only shards of diamonds littered on  
the floor, and they glittered like broken glass in sunlight.

The tin soldiers looked emotionlessly at the shards. This batch was ready  
for collection.

Alphonse laughed, "Did you get a load of that guy? He actually thought he  
could kill us."

* * *

"I should kill you where you stand."

Her voice cracked. It was filled with anger and sadness and despair. Worse  
yet, it was familiar to Artemis. This was someone who talked to him  
everyday, consoled him when he was hurt, shared with him laughter and tears.  
His friend. His comrade. His lover.

And here she was carrying a sword in her hand, bloody and well used, pointed  
directly at his face.

Artemis didn't know what was going on. There was a blank in his memory.  
There was a nothing to show how a peaceful utopia turned into a funeral  
pyre. Nothing to show. Nothing at all. And what did he do? What did he do?  
Why? Why? Why?

"Luna!" Artemis gasped. "Luna, please! Tell me, was it the Dark Kingdom? How  
did we fall?"

"Artemis you already know." Her gaze pierced his soul, and she took another  
step closer. Her eyes looked wild and feral--no she was desperate, pleading.  
"Just die." She spat out, "You've done enough. More than enough. Just die,  
Artemis. Just die."

Panic rose. All Artemis wanted to do was to hug her and love her and take  
all the hurt away, but he didn't know what was going on, and he had seen  
that same look on her face before. There was no reasoning with her. Eyes  
latched onto eyes, as she readied herself, to charge into him and gut him  
with her sword.

He froze and watched. But his brain wouldn't let him. It wouldn't let him  
die. Panic killed people.

And then his instinct kicked in.

Artemis was unarmed. He was covered with soot, burned and bloody from who  
knows what, and he was completely defenseless. But Artemis was well trained.  
He could act before he thought, and he didn't want to die.

So he concentrated, visualizing the magic runes in his head. They were  
blindingly bright in his mind and all he had to do was connect them, connect  
them and draw the power out.

Luna ran with her sword. Artemis connected the runes.

The two bodies collided together and everything turned white.

* * *

Darkness was their name and tribute.

They lived it. They breathed it. There was only one torch allowed in the  
corner. It was a pitiful thing, barely lit, just present to point out the  
exit.

And it was so dark at this point of time, in this particular corner of the  
universe, that the people gathered here couldn't see a foot ahead of them.  
This was a meeting of sorts. Everyone participated: the young and the old,  
the weak and the strong. Everyone who supported the cause came, wrapped up  
in thick dark cloaks, even though it was too dark to tell anyway.

No one had knowledge of who stood next to them. They were simply brothers  
and sisters in their fight. They took great lengths to protect their names  
and faces, because this was the only way their movement could succeed. And  
it had to succeed. For their sake, it had to. There was no other option.

If anyone was caught and questioned, then only one person would be lost,  
instead of hundreds. This type of secrecy was done for their protection.  
Here there were no chains in the link, just people, an uncountable number of  
people lining up like rows of teeth in the mouth of a shark. If one fell,  
another would step forward to take his place. Like a formless mass of goo,  
if their enemies tried to stick a fork in it, a few would fall but the goo  
would bounce right back.

And they would bounce right back, no matter how many times they were pushed  
down. They would bounce right back, until they wore down their enemy to  
nothing more than dust and bone.

The gathered men and women stood silently in the dark. They were calm. They  
were steadfast. They were not afraid of the dark. They were only afraid of  
what they saw in the light.

By some magic signal, the meeting began and someone shouted the traditional  
opening lines:

"By this oath, we swear: that we will reclaim our lands, and save our  
people. We will starve no more. They will slaughter us no more! And they  
shall FEAR us, those children of the moon; they shall FEAR the people in the  
dark--the people they have trampled upon for so long."

More people entered the chant as it progressed. The voices were getting  
louder, rising in intensity and pitch as more and more voices were added.  
They all spoke as one.

"They will fear us, the children of the shadows, thrown out of the light for  
so long. The Dark Kingdom shall rise!"

Everyone spoke now. They shouted with all of their soul.

"And the Moon Kingdom shall fall!"

* * *

It flew. Oh look how it flew.

Artemis watched with morbid fascination as Luna's body sailed twenty feet in  
front of him. His magic spell had done its work. It had burned a hole right  
through her. Now her eyes were dull and glossy. Dead. She was dead, dead,  
dead.

And how had this happened?

Luna missed. She should have stabbed him through the heart, but she hit his  
thigh instead.

His thigh burned, and spurted blood, and probably leaked out a lot of  
important fluids that were vital to his survival, but that pain didn't  
matter. His heart was threatening to explode into a billion itty-bitty  
pieces.

Frozen, Artemis stared and stared at the motionless body twenty feet ahead  
of him. He looked at her ebony hair, and her perfect eyes, and her flawless  
face one last time.

"Good-bye Luna," he whispered.

His mind still could not comprehend what had happened. He said it as if he  
was going to see her tomorrow. But there would be no more tomorrows. This  
was forever, it couldn't be undone.

So, Artemis looked, and his eyes lingered on her for an eternity, until he  
noticed the growing pool of crimson gathering around his leg.

Oh that's right; she had stabbed him with the sword.

A familiar acid tang began to creep up his throat as he doubled over and  
started to dry heave. He wanted to puke, but nothing would come out. He  
doubled over and over again, but nothing would come out, and nothing would  
make sense.

Everything was a mess. Every time he opened his eyes; he only saw a world  
that was horribly wrong.

Luna was dead, the Moon Kingdom was burning, and for a few moments he  
debated whether he should have just let himself bleed to death.

No. His body said, No not yet.

* * *

"No! Not yet! Not yet!"

The little red haired girl watched as her mother sobbed hysterically. She  
was hiding in the cornfields. The stalks were nice and tall. It was very  
dark, and she was very small. She would be safe here, but the little girl  
was worried for her mother.

"You're late on your payments woman!"

A shiny tin soldier threw her mother on the ground. Her mother was shaking  
uncontrollably.

"Just give me a little time… A little time is all I need!"

"Your time has run out. You know there are no second chances."

The shiny tin solder grabbed her and dragged her out to the line of strung  
up people.

The little girl noticed that they were strung up like cobs of corn. The  
soldiers strung up the people on a length of rope, each person just feet  
away from the others. The people there were all muddy and tired. The soldier  
added Mama to the end of the string with her hands tied in front of her.  
Mama was good at stringing up corn. The soldiers were good at stringing up  
people.

"March!" The tin soldier commanded, and the tired train of people got their  
sore and bleeding feet one step in front of the other. They marched away.  
It was the last time the little girl ever saw her mother.

The little girl knew that they were marching to their deaths. Her mama told  
her once that anyone who was strung up like that would march to their  
deaths.

The only problem was she hadn't asked her Mama what 'death' meant yet.

* * *

Artemis didn't die. He was going to die sometime later. For the time being,  
he had somehow found the strength to rip his jacket into pieces, so he could  
make a bandage for his leg.

Artemis sat on the ground some distance away from the body. This was as far  
as he could crawl himself away from it. He sat on the ground like a tired  
old man, sick of life and everything around him.

In and out and loop it around, his brain hummed. His hands looped the piece  
of cloth around his thigh and tied a tight knot. A sharp pain greeted him  
when he checked to make sure the bandage was on properly. Now his thigh was  
throbbing with each heartbeat, and the red slowly spilled out, staining the  
bandage like a disease.

Artemis rested his hand on his injured thigh. It was funny, how he could  
run on auto-pilot.

Funny. Life was funny. He watched slowly, as the flames consumed all. His  
brain noted that the palace used to be in that southwest corner, and that  
the museum used to be further north. The building right next to him used to  
be a barracks. Littered on the ground in all directions were motionless  
lumps. Some were charcoaled, some were not. Artemis assumed they were all  
dead.

He wondered how it had happened. It was the work of the Dark Kingdom, no  
doubt, but how could they have gotten past all of their defenses? And why  
was he alive? And why did Luna try to kill him?

Why, why, why was the Moon Kingdom burning?

Artemis didn't know anything.

He sat and watched the flames burn so beautiful and ugly that he cried.

He sat, and he settled, and then he finally noticed something. Somehow there  
was a key resting on his chest. He was wearing it on a necklace.

That was weird. Artemis didn't normally wear a key. Someone must have put it  
on him. It was probably on him when he first woke up; he had felt an extra  
weight there before. It was a dainty brass key, but it was heavier than it  
looked. Artemis wondered if it was supposed to be a diary key. It wouldn't  
be much useful for anything else.

The pitiful man clutched the key in his hand, wondering if there was  
anything he could have done. Somehow it was his fault, somehow he was all  
to blame for this, but he didn't have a clue why. There was nothing he could  
do, but like all men he wondered if only… if only he had done something  
different!

And much to his surprise, the key that he clenched in his hands was  
something much more than it appeared to be.

A bright light engulfed him, and he floated up to Heaven.

* * *

It was still very hot here, and the two soldiers made a point of it to  
complain every ten minutes.

Another day, another shift, another set of worthless human beings.

The shiny tin soldiers did their jobs mechanically. They shoved the next  
batch into the small room with five-inch thick walls. They checked their  
equipment. They checked the gages.

The people inside were silent. They were too tired and hungry and scared to  
do anything.

Only a small disheveled woman, whose right hand was bleeding mumbled,  
"Time. I only needed a little more time."

The tin soldier pressed a shiny red button. Everything went white.

And a thousand crystals fell to the floor, dropping like rainbow tears.

* * *

It was misty here. It was white.

All Artemis saw was a big silver gate and a whole bunch of mist.

He had heard rumors about this place. It wasn't supposed to exist, but it  
did anyway. He was at the gates of the underworld. The place in-between  
everything. The time gate.

Artemis looked at the dainty little key around his neck, and just in front  
of him, there was a big old gate. What irony! Every gate needed a key, and  
here it was resting on his neck, the time key.

Funny, life was funny. It all depended on how people looked at things.

He wondered if the fabled Sailor Pluto was going to stop him, but he crawled  
toward the gate anyway. He couldn't miss this chance. This was a golden  
opportunity. He would save the Moon Kingdom. He would save Luna.

And so Artemis crawled and crawled. He inched forward, using his arms to  
drag himself along. His arms burned with use and his thigh cried out in pain  
with each jolt, each inch, each breath. Despite the fact that he was burned  
so badly that his nerves had been destroyed, still Artemis inched along,  
because he was determined and broken inside.

His world he had to fix!

He inched forward and forward, onward and onward, despite the pain, despite  
the agony, Artemis dragged himself through the time gate, where the magical  
energies set his skin afire and jetted him across time and space.

The only problem was Artemis had no idea how to use the time gate. He could  
end up anywhere, anytime.

Artemis had leaped before he looked.

* * *

And do not forget that the time gate was HER domain.

She was Pluto, sworn guardian of the time gate, protector of the timeline,  
warrior of time and space. She was never to leave her post. Time would never  
be stopped. And time travel was to be forbidden. This she swore in her oath.

She was Pluto, the woman with the blood of Chronos in her veins. So, why  
did she allow Artemis to pass through the gates? Why didn't she stop an  
idiot man from doing idiot things? The answer to that was simple.

She was dead.

She was lying in a pool of crimson blood, somewhere in that mist. Someone  
had murdered her.

And Artemis crawled right by her and didn't notice a thing, because he was  
an idiot man, on an idiot mission, that was doomed to fail.

* * *

The man who was destined to destroy everything fell out of the sky like an  
angel, and as he fell, he saw the crescent moon shining high in the sky.  
From so far away it looked bright and pure, brilliant and breathtaking.

It was clear, it was fresh here. Everything smelled so sweet.

Artemis fell, and his hair whipped about him, his arms flapping as he tried  
to slow down the fall. But it was no use. Everything went black for a  
moment, as the pain from the impact overwhelmed his senses. Luckily for him,  
he had landed in a pile of hay that buffered the impact.

Despite the cushion, everything still hurt and Artemis quickly found himself  
drowning in a sea of hay. It took himself a few moments before he eventually  
figured his up from his down. After a bit more work, his head finally popped  
out of the vicious pile and Artemis caught a few quick breaths of air.

"Are you okay, mister?"

Artemis looked up and saw a little girl with red flaming hair. She was  
probably only four years old. It was strange to see a little girl wandering  
all by herself in the dark of night.

Artemis just laughed because everything was not okay. He had been burnt, he  
had been stabbed, Luna was dead and the Moon Kingdom was gone. He nodded at  
the little girl. "Yes. I think I'm ok."

She came up and examined his face as if he were just some insect in a jar.  
"You're a real funny guy Mister. What's your name?"

"Artemis."

"My name is Beryl." The little girl proudly stated, "Don't you think it's  
pretty? Mama named me that, but she isn't around anymore. How about you help  
me find her? Even though Mama said I shouldn't talk to strangers but in this  
case I think--"

Beryl? The same Beryl that--

"--it's okay… Hey Mister Artemis, you don't look too good, are you sure  
you're alright?"

Beryl? Beryl? The heat enveloped his face as the weakness of his body caught  
up to him. His temperature rose to almost a feverish degree, cooking him  
from the inside out. Beryl the leader of the Dark Kingdom! Artemis' blood  
boiled in a rage.

Boiling.

Boiling.

As the darkness claimed him.

kismet

* * *

**Author's Rant:**

Many thanks go out to Verloren, Mercury Omega, and Lianfearel who reviewed  
my earlier drafts.

The quote from the introduction: "a dream will always triumph over reality,  
once it is given the chance," comes from Stanislaw Lem, who no doubt had a  
different meaning for it. Oh all those silly details about context...

And if you hadn't noticed, Artemis is not a cat here. He will remain human.  
Yes, I do know the whole Artemis and Beryl match up is odd and unusual, but  
it should prove to be interesting. Artemis is thrown back in time for some  
good angst value as well as to give perspective on the situation.

That's the end of my rant. Now I'll go back to watching piles of anime and  
futilely trying to write the third chapter of Pyrexia.

Author runs away from the people with torches


	2. tinderbox

Zackary frowned.

The man lay face down, half engulfed by the haystack. His clothes were in  
tatters, but Zackary could have sworn that he saw a crescent moon on the  
collar of the man's jacket. Nothing else Zackary saw helped to identify him.  
With all that soot on him, the man looked like a piece of burnt meat.

The parts not covered by his clothing showed a patchwork of pink and  
translucent white; healthy and sickly skin juxtaposed in a macabre mosaic of  
flesh. In some spots, Zackary could see the man's muscles and tendons, as  
well as the purple blood vessels that criss-crossed his body.

This man had been burned. He had been burned badly.

But even though Zackary had seen burn victims before, he had never seen such  
extensive damage on a man who was still alive. So, what exactly had this  
man done to get such injuries?

He didn't know, but Zackary was sure that this was another omen.

Short pounding strides drew his attention away from the man and Zachary  
nodded to the newcomer.

"Did the little girl send you out here too?" Zackary asked.

"Aye, but would ya luuk at whut the cat dragged in," Timothy signaled a sign  
of protection out of habit. "I think this guy is 'bout ready to kick the  
bucket." Timothy walked up to the man, scrutinizing him. "Say, Zachary, what  
do you t'ink we shad do with him? Ya know, the eldars would pro'bly want to  
see 'im."

Zackary quickly weighed the possibilities. To save him would be a waste of  
time. Even if they tried now it was obvious that this man was far too gone.  
It would take nothing short of a miracle to save him.

"I think we'll have to put this man out of his misery, Timothy."

"Kill 'im? But the eldars--"

"The elders nothing!" Zackary snapped. "What have you seen them do lately?  
They're nothing but weak fools. And what would they do in our place? They  
would just stand and watch that man die a slow death--the elders--doing  
nothing but cursing the world all the same!" He made Timothy look at him.  
"Shouldn't we have the decency to put him out of his misery?"

"But if the eldars fin' out--" Timothy stuttered.

"And what? And what, Timothy?" Zackary felt the rage boil past his throat  
and leak into his brain. "And what then Timothy?" He spat.

"We follow the elders blindly and to what?" He yelled. "I'll tell you, what.  
We'll follow them until the world falls apart piece by piece, and we will  
stand and watch as everything you love and I love gets taken away. That's  
what will happen, Timothy."

"They'll do nothing while everything gets taken away..." His voice cracked.  
"Doing nothing, and... oh sweet maker... she's gone, gone, gone."

"Zackary--"

"Oh . . . I'm sorry I yelled, Timothy. I'm, I'm alright now…"

Zackary tried to put himself back together. He forced the red hot rage back  
behind the dam in his mind.

"Anyway," Zackary continued, trying not to break down. "Anyway, we've got to  
do the right thing here."

"But, Zackary, I duun know abou' this. A man's not a horse."

"No. No. No. You've got it all wrong. It will be a painless, merciful thing.  
We are putting a man out of his misery, whereas the elders would leave him  
out to rot." Zackary pointed at the man. "Timothy, do you want this man to  
suffer more?"

"No, but--"

"So if you don't, then we'll put him out of his misery. We'll just speed up  
his journey to the afterlife. In fact..." Zackary paused and picked up the  
scythe that had been left out in the fields. "In fact, Timothy, you are the  
stronger man here. I don't think I could make a clean strike right now. It  
would be best that you should do it." He gently wrapped Timothy's fingers  
around the handle.

Timothy's eyes widened at the instrument, and Zackary turned Timothy's face  
to make him look directly into his eyes. "You know it's right, Timothy. It's  
what's right for that man. Even if the elders did find out, they wouldn't  
blame you." Zackary persuaded him, "If you don't, he'll just suffer even  
more."

Timothy's hands strangled the handle, clenching it until his knuckles turned  
a ghostly white. Almost wrenching it apart, he battled the decision in his  
mind, wavering from one possibility to another. Timothy was such a kind  
hearted man, but all he needed was a little persuasion to see the reality  
placed before him.

"If I dun't," Timothy slowly repeated, "he'll just suffar even more."

"If I dun't he'll just suffar even more."

"If I dun't--"

And Zackary nodded, as he watched Timothy raise the scythe to make one clean  
strike.

* * *

**tin•der•box**

* * *

n. A dangerous state of affairs

* * *

"Inhabitants of the Earth and the moon must not have contact with one  
another. That is God's law..." -Princess Serenity, Volume Two

* * *

When the scratching and screaming started, Alphonse decided to turn on the  
silencer. He flipped a little gray switch with the tip of his pinky, and  
smiled when the immediate silence hit his ears.

Ah, silence.

Silence was nice. It was wonderful indeed. People said that the silence  
between the notes was what made music so enjoyable, but of course... well,  
silence was just not his thing.

Action! Excitement! Adventure!

Now, those were the things that Alphonse lived for. And who else but he, the  
great Alphonse Edward Stevenson, could spice up people's lives and bring joy  
into their little cold hearts? Alphonse was the center of attention, he  
loved noise and excitement and fun, but there was a limit to what Alphonse  
could tolerate. Listening to wailing and screaming and pounding all day can  
only give a man so much pleasure.

So, for the moment Alphonse just wanted to talk, and since his partner was  
one of those silent and sulking types, he would be the one to spark a  
conversation in this hot little hell hole of theirs.

"Tell me this, Fred--" Alphonse began in his sickeningly sweet voice.

"For the last time, my name isn't Fred--"

"--if a tree were to fall in a forest, and there was no one around to hear  
it--"

"My name is Boma, damn it, and don't you dare finish that sentence." His  
partner slammed a fist against the data tablets.

Alphonse paused, and looked at his easily excitable friend. Fred was such a  
simple man really; all Alphonse had to do was push a few buttons and he  
would bare his teeth, just the same as the last time. Toying with Fred was  
such predictable but wholesome fun.

"Okay, how about this then." Alphonse smiled and began again, "If a tree  
were to fall in a forest fire--"

"A forest fire?" Boma interjected.

"--what exactly would happen?"

"The tree would burn," Boma answered.

"So says the pessimist," Alphonse said, beaming with amusement at the other  
man's furrowed brow. "You always look at things in only one way."

"And what's wrong with that? Fire burns things. It destroys things,  
obviously."

"Ah, but what does it do in the process to the forest itself?"

"What does it do to the forest?" Boma repeated, exasperated. "Would you  
please tell me again why I should give a damn?"

Alphonse ignored him, and lectured on with the snottiest tone he could  
manage. "Well, my dear friend, in the process of burning, the fire  
rejuvenates. A forest fire always brings the forest back to life. It clears  
away the sickly trees, gets rid of the underbrush, and puts nutrients back  
into the ground." Alphonse paused. "So what happens when there isn't a  
forest fire?"

Boma rubbed his forehead to ease his headache. "Shouldn't it be clear then,  
that the tree just falls?"

"You're missing the point again. The forest is sick because there hasn't  
been a fire in ages. So the tree that fell is now extra fuel for fire. And  
the forest just keeps on getting sicklier as brush and undergrowth pile up."

"And what's the harm in that?"

"Well what happens when a spark comes by? Just a small flame?"

"It'll burn." Boma stated.

Alphonse grinned like his face was going to break. "Yes, Fred. It'll burn,"  
he said, "and when it does burn, it doesn't just burn the stuff underneath,  
this time it'll have so much fuel that it'll reach the tops of the crowns of  
the big giant trees, and then everything will burn. That fire will get so  
big and hot that it'll consume every branch, every twig, and every leaf.  
It'll leave nothing but ash and dirt."

"As I said before, fire destroys things."

"And it rejuvenates." Alphonse hummed with excitement, "After a very long  
time, something else will sprout there in that scorched earth, and turn into  
another lush and green forest."

Boma just starred at him. "Wonderful. But I have yet to see a point in this  
conversation."

"Oh? I sure thought it had one."

Boma took a deep breath, "Enough of this. Just press the red button,  
Alphonse."

Red button... Red button... Oh that red button!

Alphonse turned around to look through the one way screen. He had almost  
forgotten about them with the silencer turned on. How shameful, to be  
neglecting his duties!

Behind the one way screen, they looked like they always did, dirty and below  
him, but something was different today. Today, these people were quite the  
screamers. Two of the men were pounding against the wall, others were  
wailing and crying. On most days, the people would just sit there and stare  
at the wall. This batch was much more... energetic.

Out of the corner of his eye Alphonse caught one long grimy face looking  
back through that one way screen. It was as if he could actually see  
Alphonse. But see him? They weren't supposed to be able to see him. It was a  
one way screen! But still the old man looked at Alphonse, piecing the depths  
of his soul. And what was that man's look on his face? Somehow it disgusted  
Alphonse. And what was it? Was it sadness? Was it anger? No--it was  
something much simpler than that. It was pity.

Pity for them? Save it for yourself, fool.

"What are you waiting for? Just press the button," Boma repeated.

The old man's eyes bore into his soul, and Alphonse smiled right back.

"--ello are you even listening to me? Would you push the goddamn butt--"

How fun! To end it all with a press of a button! How amazing it was to set  
off something so great with something so little.

A single push, to release the light--a wave of temperature and pressure--to  
incinerate, to destroy, to create a thousand shards of crystal gold. This  
power...

...all at the tips of his fingers.

Alphonse pushed the button.

The man's face disappeared in a sea of white.

And somewhere, in a place where no one heard it, another tree fell in the  
forest.

* * *

Timothy raised the scythe--higher and higher it went--so high that it almost  
touched the moon, a sickle moon waning down into darkness. At the apex of  
the swing Timothy paused almost in hesitation, an eternity of silence and  
truth, but then time resumed to its normal pace.

Timothy grunted, reversing the direction of the scythe, so he could lob off  
that poor man's head. His weight shifted forward, and off it went, so fast  
that it blurred into a whirr of motion. But then the world started to spin,  
and still the scythe plummeted toward the man, only to hit--dirt?

Timothy was thoroughly confused as he spit mud out of his mouth.

For a man who was well past his prime, Healer Alceus still had a mean  
tackle. Zackary had watched in amazement as an old man, running in nothing  
but the nightgown on his back, leaped like a wily old tom cat to literally  
make Timothy eat dirt. The two of them went down in a tangled heap. The  
scythe struck the sod and stood up straight from the ground, missing the  
target completely.

In another time and place, to see Healer Alceus running about in the night  
with nothing but his nightgown would have made Zackary laugh out loud, but  
this was hardly the right situation to do so.

The healer untangled himself from Timothy's body and rose up to face  
Zachary. After all that running, his face was now beet red. Alceus's eyes  
narrowed in a fit of rage.

"You idiots, trying to kill a man?" Alceus huffed.

"Really Healer, I can explain. As you see, the man--" Zachary began.

"Explain?" Alceus cut him off. "I may be getting old, but don't count on me  
going senile just yet. Any simpleton could get the picture easily enough.  
You two idiots swinging a scythe by an injured man—and let me guess, you  
were just mowing the field in the dark of night?" He looked into Zackary's  
eyes and paused for a moment. "Or perhaps, just perhaps, you were making a  
grave for him first, so you could dump him in alive?" Alceus spat.

"--but Healar," Timothy whimpered.

"Oh do shut up, you," Alceus whapped the side of Timothy's head. "And as for  
you," Alceus pointed an accusing finger at Zachary. "You, stop riling up  
everyone around here. It isn't your place to decide these things. I'm the  
healer of this town. It'll be up to me to decide whether we should put a man  
out of his misery." He pointed to the man slumped in hay. "And you see this  
man here? I say I can still heal him. He may not look so pretty, but I can  
save him." Alceus pulled up his sleeves. "Now get back, before I get really  
upset."

Timothy and Zackary turned and walked away while Alceus ran up to the  
injured man, kneeling by him to access the situation. "Stay out of trouble  
you two," Alceus said without looking up, "and be sure to put those scythes  
to good work--out in the fields."

The two men walked a good distance away before Timothy tried to speak, but  
the other man did not listen; in fact the other man couldn't even hear it.  
Zackary was on a whole different planet.

"Stay out of trouble, indeed," Zackary snorted under his breath. "Trouble  
looks you in the face, and yet you do nothing. Damn you, damn you, damn you.  
Damn you all!"

* * *

When daylight shone through the town of Spyridon, the town had already  
gotten the news, and it traveled through the grape vines like lightning.

The town in itself was quite small, with only a population of five hundred.  
A simple people, they lived in the log cabins they built, and ate food from  
the soil they tilled. They worked for their living. It was a tight-knit  
community. Together they worked, together they sowed, together they raised  
children, together they ate, together they laughed, together they  
cried--together, together, together--everything together.

In a town of five hundred, the world was a small place to live when everyone  
knew everything about everyone else. The townspeople were as close as  
family, and they bickered just as fiercely too. News traveled like bolts of  
lightning.

Such communication efficiency would have even made Queen Serenity proud.

And when daylight shone through the town of Spyridon, the news was going  
through the grape vine.

"Did you hear? Some man has been taken in half-dead. He was found burned to  
a crisp in one of our haystacks…"

"A man, burned to a crisp?"

"Yes a man."

"And who would have the audacity to do such a thing?"

"The moonies."

"No, you're wrong; it was just the King's men."

"No. No. No. I bet it was some thieves, just some normal highway robbers."

"Moonies, and thieves, and the King's men--what is the world coming to?"

Round and round the rumor mill went.

"I also heard the elder took in an orphan. A red-headed little girl."

"What happened to her parents?"

"Maybe that man has something to do with her."

"No maybe it was just a coincidence."

"Oh, a little girl all alone to face the world!"

"Lucky she dropped on our doorstep."

"But still. The news is getting worse each day. An orphan, an orphan.  
Every second another orphan. When will things like this strop?"

"Oh, yes, I do agree. When will this stop? Oh, but think of the girl! Poor  
thing. What is the world coming to these days?"

Round and round the rumor mill went, churning out questions, but not  
answers.

"So, who is he? Who is that man?"

"We don't know."

"Do you think, could it be?"

"A Friend?"

"A Foe?"

"Who is he?" they asked.

"Who is he?" they asked.

"Just, who is he?"

* * *

Blackness. Complete blackness.

He was all alone.

And who was he? Why was he here?

What was his name?

His name. His name.

Artemis?

And he was going to...

He was going to save the world--

--and destroy it?

--no, he was going to save the moon.

--and destroy it?

No, no. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

He was going to save Luna.

He was going to save the moon kingdom.

He was going to save peace and truth and justice.

He was going to save...

He was going to save...

No this isn't what I want

I don't want that

I don't want that at all

I want--

I want--

I want to be saved

Why wasn't I saved?

Why didn't anyone save me?

Blackness. Complete blackness.

He was all alone.

* * *

Everything hurt, everything throbbed. He was hot--no, he was cold--no, his  
skin was on fire--no, no, it was itchy as hell.

The man lying on the clinic bed was confused.

If this was the afterlife, Artemis wanted his money back.

"My, my, my... Ooh! My back is killing me." The old man rested his hand on  
his back. "I haven't ever had to use so much of my talent before." The old  
man laughed, "If you think you feel bad, boy, the kind of pain I'm in feels  
ten times worse."

Artemis turned his face to the side to see who was speaking. Pain? Oh,  
right, pain, that sort of stabbing jabbing pain that threatened to send him  
back to unconsciousness. He looked at the old man in a daze. The man  
reminded Artemis of an old gnome.

"Where am I exactly?" Artemis croaked.

"Spyridon, two clicks out of nowhere." The man laughed.

Spyridon? The name tickled the back of his mind. It sounded familiar for  
some reason.

"Oh, I'm just joking of course, but it sure was lucky that you were near our  
town. I'm the nearest healer in a 100 mile radius. Alceus is my name."

"And your name is..." the man trailed off.

"Artemis."

"Ah, Artemis," The old man--Alceus--began to scribble in a worn leather  
notebook. "And a truly lucky lad, aren't you? In all my years, I've  
certainly never seen someone beaten so badly and still survive. To tell you  
the truth, the first time I looked at you, I figured you were a goner. But  
you were quite a surprise; I never expected that your body would respond to  
such a degree."

"But onto the cold hard facts: you were hurt very badly back there, Artemis.  
You suffered from third degree burns on your back and upper arms, a stab  
wound to the thigh, and some burns to your forehead."

"And I'm afraid I must say," the old man continued. "That the area on your  
forehead looks suspicious. The way your other burns are positioned it seems  
almost impossible for your face to be burnt. It almost looks deliberate."

"No, I won't pry into your private life and ask you how you managed to get  
these injuries, but if you ever do want to tell me about it, you can come to  
me and won't have to worry about it flying around town."

"But, you must know," Alceus said while he pulled up a chair. "Burns are  
nasty things. Even with the best healers, you'd face a recovery time of the  
number of days equal to what percentage of your body was burned. Now what  
I've done is that I've managed to speed up your recovery, because that's  
what my talent lets me do, but it won't cure everything. I've merely...  
encouraged your body to heal. If you check yourself in the mirror, you'll be  
able to see new scar tissue."

Artemis nodded wearily. Burns? Scar tissue?

"And you see, by making the body work that hard on repairing the body, this  
exertion puts a real strain on it. So, even though you're all fixed up,  
you'll be as weak as a newborn kitten for quite a few months." Alceus  
winked. "Now be a good boy and stay put, you hear?"

"Stay put?"

"That's right. No running about, no frolicking; what you need is just some  
plain old rest."

"But I need to get back to the moon," Artemis protested.

"The moon?" Alceus asked, incredulous. "What are you saying? That you're a  
Moonie?"

A dangerous silence overtook the clinic room, but then the healer cracked a  
smile and slapped the bed that Artemis was resting upon.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Alceus pointed at Artemis. "You, a Moonie?" His face  
relaxed, and then he gave off a big guffaw. "That's ridiculous! You're  
trying to throw an old man off guard aren't you? I think you'd have to turn  
into a three-headed monster before I believed that one."

* * *

Adults were funny.

She never knew quite what to expect from them. Adults liked to talk a lot  
about confusing things, and then they didn't do very much but talk.

Mama had tried to tell her what good people and bad people were like, but  
Beryl didn't quite understand it yet. What made a person good and bad? And  
could good people do bad things, or could bad people do good things?

It was all so confusing. Beryl wondered how much longer it would take before  
she understood all those grown up things.

Oh well. Beryl figured that was going to be a long, long time away...

Beryl licked the sweet that the nice old man had given her, and savored the  
taste of it. She was surprised at first because it looked like a rock. It  
was slightly yellow, and had jaggedey sides, but she could still sort of  
look through it. She had been hesitant at first, but when she licked it, it  
was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted.

Beryl guessed she couldn't tell how things were from just what they looked  
like.

And Mister Artemis was a really funny man. His skin was all patchy and gross  
looking, but then a lot of her neighbors weren't too good looking either and  
papa had skin like that once too.

Beryl wasn't afraid of him at all.

Mister Artemis looked funny and fell from the sky. He was like a shooting  
star.

Beryl stopped walking. Oh yes, Mama had said that shooting stars were really  
just falling rocks. She had called them something else before. What was it  
again? It started with an "m." Was it me-teo-os? Me-te-or-ies?  
Me-te-or-ites?

Ah yes, they were me-te-or-ites. Mama had taught her that word before, when  
she had pointed out a shooting star in the distance. Mama had said that  
people make a wish when they see a shooting star. Mama had wished for  
someone to come and protect them.

Beryl always thought that the moon people threw down the rocks so the earth  
people could look at a really pretty sky. She thought that the moon people  
would do something real nice for them. Mister Artemis was like a meteorite.

He fell from the moon just for her.

* * *

The elders--no, just one elder--Zackary reminded himself, had turned out to  
be right. The man that Zackary had thought would surely die instead had made  
a full recovery. He had almost sent a man to a premature death!

And how could he make such a mistake?

Foolish and stupid, he was.

So, at the doorstep to the clinic, Zackary debated whether or not to  
apologize to the man. His hand hovered over the door. Should he go in? But  
what could he possible say to him? "Sorry I almost killed you?" That had no  
tact. No tact at all. Maybe he could just do something nice for the man.  
Yes. That was it. That would take away this sickening weight of guilt.

Zackary would just do something nice for him.

He took a deep breath before opening the door. "Hello?" Zackary called out.

And Zackary couldn't help but cringe when the white haired man looked up.  
Although the man had been healed, his skin had grown back in angry patches.  
The scars were raised up from the normal skin, and Zackary could not help  
but notice. The man's face just looked... wrong. It was like looking at a  
doll's face that had been slapped together with mud and had straw sticking  
out of the sides. This man was just so disfigured.

"Yes what is it?" The man asked.

"Ah, yes," Zackary said while averting his eyes. "My name is Zackary. I  
heard about your situation and I was wondering if I could do anything for  
you."

"Well, nice to meet you, Zackary. My name is Artemis." The man propped  
himself up from the bed, and shook Zackary's hand. "...so anything you could  
do for me, huh?" he repeated.

"Yes, I just wanted to do something nice for you." Zackary nodded.

"So, it's something like a favor, right?"

"Right," Zackary tried to smile. "It's like a favor."

"I think I'll take you up on your offer." Artemis said. "You see, the healer  
has been quite--well, forceful about my bed rest. To tell you the truth, I  
think I'll need to get some help to get back to the moon. I mean anything  
would be helpful, like information on the local terrain, or perhaps helping  
to distract Alceus so I can finally get out of bed."

"Wait a moment, did I hear you correctly? The moon? You said that you want  
to go to the moon?" Zackary was dumbfounded.

"Yes."

"And you lived there--there on the moon? The moon up in the sky?"

"Yes."

"The moon?"

"To answer your question for the umpteenth time, yes, I did live on the  
moon. But is this a problem or something?" Artemis asked. "What year is  
this, anyway?"

Zackary ignored the question. He was ignoring a lot of things right now.  
Right now his blood was boiling. Thoughts were ricocheting from one side of  
his brain to another.

He was a Moonie?

What was this?

Why was the world laughing at him like this?

And something inside of him snapped. The dam burst. Everything came out, and  
all that anger and pain he had been holding away for a moon, threatened to  
drive him insane. All he saw was red. Nothing could stop him now. The rage  
flowed freely, his heart quickened, his throat burned, and his temperature  
rose.

That man! That man! That man from the moon! Everything was his fault!  
Everything! Everything! Everything!

And all Zachary could get out of his feeble throat was:

"You're a goddamn Moonie?"

* * *

"And how are things proceeding on Earth?"

"Your Majesty, the situation on the surface is rather . . . tense." Luna  
signed. "Anything could set off a war across the whole planet."

"And so the Kings refuse to cooperate?"

"It seems as such, although one in particular seems to be warming to our  
talks, Luna reported. "The project is on schedule, but I fear that the speed  
at which we are approaching this will only stretch what ties we have to  
their limit." She paused. "I'm quite worried about what will happen if those  
ties will break."

Queen Serenity took another sip of tea with a rather amused look on her  
face. "Luna, could you please tell me again what exactly those Earther  
peasants really want?"

"Peace, your Majesty."

"Yes, peace. They want peace, Luna," Serenity repeated. "While the Kings and  
warlords and pirates squabble for land and wealth through pointless battles,  
the peasants scream for peace. And what are we doing? We're giving them  
peace. This project will give them peace that will last for several  
millennia."

"Do you understand this, Luna?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Do not forget that it is our duty to help remove the negative influences on  
Earth. The Earthers are but lost sheep and we are here to guide them to  
greener pastures. We will show them the correct path to take." Serenity's  
voice grew stern. "Even if it means that some must be sacrificed to save the  
whole, this is what we must do."

"Yes, your Majesty," Luna bowed.

"And another thing, Luna. It seems that this job is growing too big for even  
you to handle."

"Your Majesty?"

"I'm assigning another person to your unit."

"Oh?"

"The instructors say he has great potential. He's a lad full of wit and  
skill, so the instructors say--a prime example of what a Moon Kingdom  
citizen should be. And I'm sure that with you showing him the ropes; he will  
become a great asset."

"I'm sure he will," Luna nodded. "What is his name?"

"Artemis," Serenity smiled. "His name is Artemis."

* * *

"Artemis, you're a Moonie?" Zackary said with a dangerous glint in his eyes,  
"and here I thought you were human."

* * *

Beryl guessed she couldn't tell how things were from just what they looked  
like.

* * *

"It almost looks deliberate," Alceus said.

* * *

Serenity turned to Luna, "They're all savages; it's in their blood. Every  
single one of them--all inherently evil--and we must do our best to curb  
their habits."

"Curb their habits." Luna repeated. "I think such a thing is almost  
impossible to do."

"So we do it again and again, ever onwards into eternity."

* * *

Mama had tried to tell her what good people and bad people were like, but  
Beryl didn't quite understand it yet. What made a person good and bad? And  
could good people do bad things or could bad people do good things?

* * *

"Fuckin' Moonie. You don't understand. You don't understand at all." He  
paused. "You don't understand and yet and yet... My wife! You goddamn  
Moonie, you killed my wife! All of you killed her. It's all your goddamn  
fault."

* * *

It was all so confusing. Beryl wondered how much longer it would take before  
she understood all those grown up things.

* * *

"Can we ever heal them? Can we ever save them all?"

"Don't fret Luna. They will never change, but they will listen, because  
God's law is my law." She smiled, "because God's law is my law."

* * *

"I don't understand."

"That's right, you don't understand, but you don't deserve to live either."  
Zachary picked up a scalpel. "You don't deserve to live because you're a  
damn Moonie."

* * *

"And how are things proceeding on Earth?"

"Your Majesty, the situation on the surface is rather . . . tense." Luna  
signed. "Anything could set off a war across the whole planet."

* * *

"Well what happens when a spark comes by? Just a small flame?" Alponse  
asked.

"It'll burn," Boma said.

* * *

"But I don't understand. But I don't understand!"

"And that's exactly why you should die." Zackary calmly replied. "That's  
exactly why you should die. You killed my wife and don't even know why. You  
think we don't know what you're doing--but Artemis, the rumors fly about.  
And what it spells out is your death--all of the Moonies' death."

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing and everything. You're so damn evil you don't even notice it."

* * *

"Alphonse, just push the button."

* * *

"Yes, peace. They want peace, Luna," Serenity repeated. "While the Kings and  
warlords and pirates squabble for land and wealth through pointless battles,  
the peasants scream for peace. And what are we doing? We're giving them  
peace. This project will give them peace that will last for several  
millennia."

* * *

That man! That man! That man from the moon! Everything was his fault!  
Everything! Everything! Everything!

* * *

Beryl wasn't afraid of him at all. Mister Artemis looked funny and fell from  
the sky. He was like a shooting star. He fell from the sky just for her.

* * *

"Artemis," Serenity smiled. "His name is Artemis. A lad full of wit and  
skill, so the instructors say, a prime example of what a Moon Kingdom  
citizen should be."

* * *

"Just die, Artemis! Just die! All of you, all of you just die! Because the  
Moonies..."

* * *

"And we shall continue to further the project because those savages..."

* * *

"...they're evil, all of them."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Again and always, many thanks to everyone who reviewed.

A special thanks goes to Foenixfyre for beta reading this chapter.

And just to avoid confusion, I sent Artemis back in the past, so logically  
that means there's a younger Artemis on the Moon. An Artemis on the Earth  
and an Artemis on the Moon. I think I'll have a lot of fun with parallels.

Flames, comments, questions? Tell me what you think, and hopefully I can  
improve my writing for the next chapter.


	3. chimera

He could see it now. It was so simple.

He was the root of it all. He needed to die.

Zackary gripped the scalpel, and lobbed it at the man. The throw went wild  
and bounced against the left poster of the bed.

Artemis looked up at Zackary. Confusion plastered all over his face.

And seeing that the scalpel had not worked, Zackery lunged at Artemis,  
desperately, willingly, like a cat scrambling after a wounded mouse. Artemis  
was too slow to react, too slow to move, too slow to avoid the iron grip  
that closed around his neck.

Why had everyone been so scared of them? They were so weak!

Zackary laughed as he squeezed the life from Artemis. Laughing so hard that  
tears pooled at the edge of his eyes. He laughed while the pitiful man tried  
to push Zackary away, laughed while the man struggled for breath—-he was  
laughing, laughing, laughing as the Moonie died.

Artemis clawed at the hands, sinking his fingernails into flesh, drawing  
blood that dribbled down warm against the neck and soaked red into the bed  
sheets. Zachary grimaced, but held his position.

Was the man trying to beg for mercy? Was he trying to beg for his miserable  
life?

And did she get any mercy? Did she get to live??

NO! NO! NO!

He tightened his grip around the man's neck and Zackary watched as the man's  
eyes rolled inward and the body went limp.

* * *

**chi•me•ra**

* * *

n. A fanciful mental illusion or fabrication

* * *

"You could never understand it all. You want a reason, two or three reasons.  
When there are reasons going back two or three hundred years…" –Ken Kesey,  
"Sometimes a Great Notion"

* * *

The sea of green stars began to vanish one by one into the darkness. He  
reached out to them desperately. There was still something he had to do!  
There was something important! There was something so inherently vital… but  
he could not remember, and so he continued to reach for the green stars. He  
did not know why he did this, but with the loss of each brilliant star his  
sense of foreboding increased, as if something bad would happen if all of  
them disappeared. The man reached, stretching his arms to the limit in a  
futile effort to try and grasp them, but it was no use.

The green stars continued to vanish, thinning as the burning in his lungs  
dissipated to a tingle. In the darkness he lost sight of himself. It was  
cold here.

Nothing mattered anymore. It would soon end.

Falling, falling, forever falling, Artemis was drifting into the void,  
weightless and numb. Soon he wouldn't exist. This place, this darkness, was  
silence, an infinite silence out to drown and swallow him whole.

Artemis

Falling, he was falling, and it was cold.

Artemis

Cold. Numb. Yes, his whole body was numb.

Artemis

It sounded familiar.

Artemis

But the stars were fading….

Artemis

"Artemis. Wake up."

But the stars…

"Wake up."

Warmth radiated all around him, and his body shivered in relief. His head  
rested in someone's lap and he could feel the light traces of fingers  
against smooth skin.

A voice whispered in his ear: "Wake up."

Artemis opened his eyes.

"Lu… Luna? The stars--they were fading."

"Were they now?" Luna smiled and pointed at the dome overhead them. "Look,  
Artemis, the stars are all there as plain as day. See? The Sun and the stars  
and the Earth are all where you last left them."

Artemis' eyes followed her arm, and saw the sea of crystalline stars, the  
blazing sun, but frowned at the sight of the blue planet. There was  
something that bothered him.

"Shhh. It was just a dream." Luna said as her fingers gently stroked  
Artemis' hair. "It was all just a dream."

"But—"

"No buts." Luna kissed his forehead.

"Yes," Artemis laughed, letting his head rest against her lap as her warmth  
melted away all of his troubles. "You're right, Luna, it was all just a  
dream. But I think I'll go back to sleep." He said with a smirk. "Did you  
know you make a rather nice pillow Luna?"

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? You'd better get up soon."

"Why? I like it here."

"Because Artemis, if you don't get your head off of my poor numb legs, we'll  
be late for the Queen. And--"

x

x

x

"And so it goes that each and every one of them fails. Why is it that our  
queen wishes to continue to put vast resources into this project? Our own  
men and women down on that cursed planet? For what? A bunch of heathens and  
barbarians!"

Artemis jerked his head back to attention, and leaned back in soft leather  
chair. In half a daze, Artemis listened to the review. He remembered it now,  
how hard it was to stay awake here. The councilmen could drone along for  
hours debating much about nothing, while the Queen would pleasantly listen  
until they had all complained in full.

"I'm surely glad you pay attention to these meetings, Artemis" Luna  
whispered in his ear. "Just look at the councilmen squabbling in objection  
to the proposal, even when the queen has put such thought into this plan."

"What is the use of this?" A squat man gestured wildly, puffing out his  
cheeks in protest. "The four kings would never agree to such a thing. We  
have tried before, your highness, dealing with these people civilly. What  
makes your highness so convinced to think that such drastic measures would  
work on them? Those wretches down on that planet are more stubborn than  
mules!"

"I too, must protest your highness. This whole situation is preposterous!  
The crystals, your highness? Surely, you jest. Those barbarians… they  
couldn't possibly have the control—"

The Queen raised her hand and the men quieted.

"Peace and silence Councilmen. This is their final chance to prove us  
wrong—to surpass their vile nature. This is their last test. Out of all of  
those nations and tribes down there on that little planet, one of them must  
surely carry the ability to use this gift as we do. At least one of those  
nations should have the capability. We will find them, and guide them, and  
unite that planet."

"And," She paused, letting her expression go sour. "And, in the worse case.  
In the very worse case where all of them fail, and that world gets pulled  
under by even more chaos, we will be there until the very end, ready to  
clean up this mess and silence them all."

"So," She said smiling at the men, beaming like the goddess that she was,  
"are there anymore objections?"

Artemis smiled at Luna and at his Queen, and watched as the walls grew dark,  
as he no longer had any choice but to close his eyes.

x

x

x

The princess poked his side. Artemis was dimly aware of his face slipping  
free of the hand that supported it and was jolted awake by the sharp crack  
of his chin meeting the balcony support.

"Asleep on the job again I see," the princess grinned. "How is it that you  
can manage falling asleep against a balcony while standing?"

"Princess--" Artemis started in slight confusion, giving himself a few  
moments to get his thoughts together. "Well you see, only the best of the  
best can do what I do." He laughed and rubbed his injured chin, "Just don't  
tell Luna that I fell asleep again. She's liable to just push me off the  
balcony altogether."

"You're silly." The princess took a spot next to him on the balcony. "Do you  
always fall asleep to the view of the gardens?"

"Not always Princess, but today the weather was so pleasant I could not help  
but heed the call of sleep."

It was true. The weather was perfect this day, similar to all the other ones  
the dome provided, but there was something different today. Artemis didn't  
know what, but it was odd. Today felt so bland, as if it were lacking warmth  
and detail and depth, like a vague memory of something that had happened a  
very long time ago.

"Artemis, actually I came to ask you a question." The princess hunched over,  
and gazed far away at the horizon. "Artemis, how do you tell if you're in  
love?"

"Love?" The word rolled curiously on his tongue. "Love, you say--"

Artemis blinked--

x

x

x

And found himself in the training halls of his youth. The familiar scent of  
sweat and old equipment surrounded him. Artemis stepped forward a few paces,  
enjoying the memory of it all, his bare feet clinging lightly to the  
training mat beneath him.

"Still here I see." Luna laughed. "You're not that bright are you?"

"What?"

"Pay attention!" Luna snapped. Her blade whirled down in an arc too fast for  
his eyes to follow, it cut through the air, tearing it asunder in a whiff of  
air. Artemis gave a meek cry when the pain lanced through his body,  
blossoming from his right side and traveled lightning-quick to his neck. The  
pain was odd. Everything felt wrong and Artemis could not breathe.

Artemis looked down and saw that he too carried a training blade in his  
right hand.

Luna smiled and took up another stance. "Come on, I don't have all day."

Ignoring the pain like he was trained to do, Artemis obeyed, and opted for a  
straightforward slash.

He lunged forward, the mat sticking to his feet even more as body  
temperature increased. Luna smiled and deflected the blade, expertly  
diverting the energy of his own attack against him. Artemis lost himself to  
his own momentum, feeling himself fall forward, while Luna helped him fall  
faster with a jab to the back.

"You're dead twice over, Artemis." Luna wagged a finger at him. "I already  
have a punching bag at home and I think I like it much more than you." Luna  
raised the sword above her head in attack position. "Now, Artemis, defend  
yourself!"

She struck.

Her strike must have been perfect. A strike that was too quick to follow and  
too quick to block. Artemis found himself lying dazed on the mat. Luna did  
not hold back. She never held back, did she?

"That's right, you never excelled at melee combat, did you?" She smiled,  
hovering over him. "You never had the balance or the motorcontrol for it."

Her words were soothing and melodic and true. Luna always spoke the truth.

"But still, you were special weren't you? They chose you for a reason."  
Luna knelt down next to him and rested her hands against his cheeks. "You  
were exceptional at the dark arts. A prodigy in fact, almost as good as a  
senshi, they said."

Artemis found that he couldn't respond. His body was paralyzed. He could not  
twitch, he could not cry, he just could not-- and the panic set in as he  
realized that he could not breathe. He had no control. Panic! He was  
panicking and he could not even cry out!

Panic kills people.

"Come on Artemis. Show me again. Show me what makes you special." Luna stood  
up and paused, letting her index finger rest on the tip of her chin. "But  
wait, you did that already, didn't you? Didn't You!" She pointed an accusing  
finger at him. "Don't you remember dear Artemis? You killed me."

Luna laughed. "And you don't even know why, do you?"

Artemis could see right through her. There was a hole in her abdomen.

The safely of the training hall vanished. He was outside now. Here, the  
embers fell down like snow, and the shadows leaped menacingly. Artemis  
remembered. He remembered the fire, and the heat, and the burns, and the  
blood, and the fall. He remembered her. He remembered what he did.

The stench of burnt flesh threatened to make him sick.

"You killed me just like I taught you to!" She laughed hysterically.

And Artemis couldn't look away, couldn't help but look at her, the woman he  
loved so much. The woman that he killed.

"So slow," Luna chided. "Soooo, slow. Now, show me again Artemis. Show me  
what makes you special. I want to see all of it. I want to see what you do.  
I want to see you struggle until the very end."

"Betray and kill and dance for the Devil. I want to see all of it, you hear  
me?" She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Now, wake up stupid. Wake up  
and live.

* * *

Artemis opened his eyes and found that they were already wet with tears. He  
was awake this time, truly awake. He knew because his throat was raw and his  
head was heavy and everything hurt.

He pushed the panic down; trampled it out to the back of his mind by pure  
will. He did not know how, but he forced himself to do it. Despite the pain,  
despite the panic that he could not move, he forced himself to breathe.

The runes were already there, bound together in an intricate and interwoven  
pattern. They were deadly and beautiful, dazzling and forbidden. He saw  
them all in the back of his mind, ready for one last command, waiting for  
just one last nudge to unravel and destroy everything in its path.

The noise of his ragged breathing drew Zackary attention. The man turned  
around. Artemis saw Zackary's grin slide into a frown. He saw the second  
lunge toward his neck.

She wanted to see it, Luna did.

Pandora's box opened. With a simple mental nudge, the runes unraveled at an  
unimaginable speed--everything let loose in a flicker brighter than the sun.

And then--

--Then.

Everything he touched burned.

* * *

Alceus shivered and continued to walk. These night walks forced him to rely  
on his senses. Sight could be misleading sometimes. These walks cleared his  
mind. It let him think.

He inhaled and sharp bite of the cold air into his old lungs reminded him of  
the winter that was close approaching, of the strange man whom he had saved,  
and of an orphan girl with fiery red hair. Those were problems he'd rather  
not think about.

He had so much to do he didn't know where to start. There were ledgers to  
straighten out. Their stores needed to be calculated and held safely in the  
town's common sheds. The livestock would have to be rounded up and  
recounted. The elders would once again decide how much meat there was to be,  
how much they would have to save, and consider how much food the blasted  
animals would actually consume during the frigid months.

His old elbow ached and Alceus rubbed it absentmindedly.

And of course he would have to settle all of this tomfoolery with the young  
ones. Timothy was a good boy, but Zackary, Zackary, he would have to settle  
down. The little fool didn't see the consequences in his actions, he didn't  
see what events could transpire.

He walked silently, enjoying the feeling of the stones beneath his feet, the  
sounds of the animals that rustled in the forest, the smell of--

Something was off in the air.

He turned sharply to the right to detect the source, and then Alceus looked  
with utter dead, as the flames sparked up and fed ravenously—-sparking in  
deep red and yellow and oranges hues. He watched in morbid fascination as  
the fire destroyed all of his life work, a fire that danced like a devil in  
the moonlight.

"By the gods..." His words faltered, his jaw slung agape.

He had to do something. Anything!

His legs stumbled, as he almost fell over in a panic, straightening himself  
out as he forced his legs into a loping run. Alceus ran, ran as fast as his  
old legs would let him.

"Fire, Fire!" He shouted himself hoarse. "By the gods, get up you fools.  
It's FIRE!"

* * *

Beryl rubbed her ears in annoyance. The silly whispers were speaking to her  
again. Telling her to get up, to get out, to get away again. Beryl  
reluctantly pulled the rough covers off the bed, yawned, and rubbed her  
tired eyes.

It was dark and the shadows here were unfamiliar. She would have to wait  
until her eyes adjusted. Fortunately, there was still enough moonlight that  
spilled inward through the glass window, and soon Beryl could see the dark,  
rough, outlines of the room.

She jumped off the side of her bed, and winced when her bare-feet touched  
the frigid floor. It was much too cold and she really didn't want to be  
awake right now, but the whispers urged her forward relentlessly. The  
floorboards squeaked as she tip-toed around the floor, trying to avoid the  
cold surface as much as possible.

Shoes were important. She couldn't forget her shoes.

She blindly searched for them along the floor. Beryl shuffled forward, in a  
squat and hunched over position with her hands spread wide in the hopes of  
feeling them. It took her a while but she found them.

She slipped them on her feet, happy, but there was still the tricky business  
of tying the shoes.

Mama had shown her how. On one of her happier days she told her a story and  
it went like this:

"Once upon a time there was a silly rabbit that was very sad because his  
ears were so long and narrow. He hated his ears because everyone would tease  
him and he stepped on them all the time. He hated them so much, that he  
complained about his ears all day and night. One day, a fox overheard the  
silly little rabbit and decided to help him. She lifted up the bunny's ears  
and crossed them over like an x. Then she put one ear through the bottom of  
the x and pulled.

Next, she made each long ear into a loop and made another x like before. She  
put an ear under that x and pulled again. From then on the bunny remembered  
how to tie his ears into a bow, which really didn't end up being that long  
of a time, because the fox was hungry. The End."

With her shoes tied, Beryl took another minute to look for her outer coat,  
which she hastily put on, and opened the door. Outside it was even colder,  
but it was strange too. She could feel the heat in front of her, and the  
cold to her back, and then she saw the surreal image in front of her.

She was much too close to the flames--much too close to the burning monster  
that howled in the moonlight.

She stopped, awed by the sight of it all, and almost as an afterthought, she  
noted that the town was on fire again.

* * *

Artemis howled.

It was a howl of pain, of rage, of anger and loss.

He unleashed the monster. The forbidden magic. The summoning. The cat. He  
was the cat. The cat was him. And everything WOULD BURN.

The cat grinned, grinning because it was free at last, and though the avatar  
was weak and feeble, it would do.

It would do.

* * *

**Author's Rant:** Sorry about the major time delay between the chapters.  
School was rather distracting, and a ruptured appendix didn't help much  
either.

The dialogue between Artemis and Zachary was already revealed in the last  
chapter. If you check back in the montage of dialogue at the end of chapter  
two, you can pick out their conversation easily enough.

Look forward to a senshi appearing in the next chapter. Also, FF seems to be  
stripping brackets, so unfortunately a bit of formatting has been lost. If it  
compels you to do to, look for a copy on moonromance that has the  
original formatting.


End file.
